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letra de the dirt that once was me - a song for the buried - daughterofprospero

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what was there before this choking, what was it to breathe free?
to take a breath for granted in a muddied memory?
all is close and all is crushing, earthworms slink between my t–th
i am of them i am with them in the ceaselessly beneath
would that i were born amongst the company of ants
then perhaps i’d be accustomed to the sinking earth’s advance

i am never crushed to nothing, what a mercy that would be
there is always pressure building on the dirt that once was me
i am never choked to dying, no release from agony
every gasp is blue-lipped anguish from the dirt that once was me

no prayer could reach to heaven from so far below the ground
my feeble words are sn-tched up by the greedy muck and drowned
perhaps i’m in a nightmare’s grasp, and soon enough i’ll wake
but this soil will not release me ‘til i’ve no more bones to break
would that i called oceans home and scoured the briny deep
then the pressure of the planet would not scorn the thought of sleep

i am never crushed to nothing, what a mercy that would be
there is always pressure building on the dirt that once was me
i am never choked to dying, no release from agony
every gasp is blue-lipped anguish from the dirt that once was me

these eyelids do not open, but what could be there to see?
my body mashed and mangled in a human parody?
i wonder if this dampened tomb is wetted by my blood
but in my strangled heart i know my veins run thick with mud
would that i were atlas with the sky upon my back
i would take his mantle gladly to escape the earth’s attack
i am never crushed to nothing, what a mercy that would be
there is always pressure building on the dirt that once was me
i am never choked to dying, no release from agony
every gasp is blue-lipped anguish from the dirt that once was me

from the screaming, dust-clogged lungs within the dirt that once was me
what, i think, was called a person, is the dirt that once was me
in the deepest grave in all the world lies dirt that once was me
in an unmarked spot, in a coffin closed, ‘neath a fresh-tilled mound, and below the grass, and below all roots, and too deep for light, and too close for air, and too far from hope lies the dirt that once was me

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